


i can't see my future (but i'm pretty sure you're in it)

by 1500birds



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breakup, F/F, I'm a slut for angst, endgame happiness, it'll get better I swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6391267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1500birds/pseuds/1500birds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Two weeks after Lexa Woods walks out of your life like a lightning clap, you stumble to your apartment half drunk, half hungover at two in the afternoon and flop into your bed, falling asleep almost as soon as your cheek his your sheets.”</p><p>"Four weeks, 3 days, and 13 hours ago you thought you had the world, but you only actually had a girl, and nothing else, and four weeks, 3 days, and 10 hours ago, you left."</p><p>Clarke and Lexa Aren’t Dating™, because Clarke’s Not Ready, but when Lexa suddenly drops out of her life, it hurts more than a breakup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. two weeks after (intermission: four weeks before)

**Author's Note:**

> this work is at high risk of being micro edited but i will always put in notes when there are edits/revisions
> 
> also i don't always put chapters through my beta before posting so sorry for mistakes

Two weeks after Lexa Woods walks out of your life like a lightning clap, you stumble to your apartment half drunk, half hungover at two in the afternoon and flop into your bed, falling asleep almost as soon as your cheek his your sheets.

You wake up at 7 o’clock, with the red of the late sunset peeking through your blinds. You sit up and rub your eyes but stop moving when you hear the talking from the next room, hear your name, and recognize it as Raven’s voice.

“...not even partying, just drinking way more than usual.”

“Lexa’s the same. I’m worried about her. She’s never been one to drink but I found her passed out with a bottle of whiskey two days ago.”

“I take it she hasn’t been doing well?”

“Leadership weighs her down. Always has.” The second voice is Anya’s, crackling through the Skype connection. “The panic attacks have gotten worse. She hasn’t been sleeping.”

You remember Lexa’s panic attacks. How she’d seize up, face going cold while her breathing sped up. They woke her up at night, sometimes, the result of night terrors, and always made her exhausted the next day.

There’s a pause, then Raven says, “I think Clarke’s acting the way she is because of Lexa.”

“You’re  _ blaming _ it on her?”

“No, no that’s not what I meant. I mean, I think Clarke actually cared about her. More than she wanted to, more than she’ll probably ever admit to me.”

“She still didn’t care enough.”

Raven’s voice takes a sharp edge. “Now  _ you’re _ the one blaming, Anya. This isn’t her fault.”

“Sorry.” Anya’s voice softens. “I know Clarke cared for her. I just wish things had gone differently. She hasn’t been this bad since Costia.”

“Shit.”

Hearing that Lexa wasn’t doing well only makes a surge of anger well up inside you. She’s the one who left, who packed her stuff before even telling you goodbye. You don’t think she’d have even let you know until the day she flew out if you hadn’t tried to suprise visit her. You tell yourself that you’re glad she’s miserable, glad she’s hurting, because that’s what she deserves, you trusted her and you let her in and she left, she just fucking left.

“She threw a bottle at me,” Anya adds. “Last night. She was drunk and she threw it at me.”

“Clarke threw one at me, too. Three days ago.”

“What'd you say to piss her off?”

“That she shouldn't blame Lexa for giving up on her since she treated her like a fuck. What about you?”

“I told Lexa that she needed to own up to her decisions and stop pitying herself.”

Raven sighed. “When are you coming home?”

“Once I know she can take care of herself.” There was a pause, and then, “I should let you go. Lexa should be home soon and she’d be upset to see us Skyping.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Anya.”

“‘Night, Rae.”

There’s a tenderness in the way they speak to each other that makes your stomach turn and you lay back down. It’s too much like the way Lexa would speak to you, when she was just a little sleepy or a tad too tipsy, when she let her walls down and let herself be soft.

You know you miss her but you’re not ready to admit it.

* * *

 

_ It's an important moment, a defining moment, when Jasper looks at Lexa at your side and asks, “Who is this?” _

_ You turn to look at her, for a moment, and see the weight of your next words in the intent look she's giving you. She's waiting for your answer as much as Jasper is, and you wish this was another time, some other situation than an introduction in the middle of a part in your apartment, but there's no way out of it. _

_ “This is my friend Lexa,” you say, and out of the corner of your eye you see her jaw clench tight, but that's the only indication she gives of her feelings about your words. She only holds out a hand for Jasper, who shakes it warmly and says something you don't really hear, ahs then she gracefully makes an excuse and drifts away from the two of you. _

“ _ Damn Griffin, she's hot,” Jasper says. You laugh it off but your eyes are still locked on her, across the room, and you watch as Lexa says something to Anya and downs a shot, and then a second. _

_ You move away from Jasper, go on autopilot, disengage your feelings and thinking and just grab some chips and dip. _

_ “You good, princess?” Octavia asks, of course she's by the food, and you just nod your head and smile through the guacamole. Autopilot. She raised an eyebrow. “You need a drink?” _

_ “Absolutely,” you say after you swallow and Octavia hands you something that you down in only a few gulps. “Thanks, babe,” you say, and then you move back into the crowd. _

_ Lexa must be dodging you for a while, because you only catch glimpses of her, until suddenly she's  _ right there _ , in front of you, hair pulled over one shoulder and eyes somehow focused despite how much alcohol she's had. _

_ “Dance?” She asks, and you happily accept, which you realize is a mistake about five minutes later because  _ fuck _ she can dance. _

_ She’s turned around, back against your front, hands reaching back to thread into your hair as she grinds her hips into yours. You don't know when your hands got on her hips, or why you think it's a good idea to press a kiss into the skin behind her ear. When you place another kiss father down she lets out the faintest gasp and she's so beautiful, you turn her around and claim her lips. She sinks into it, pulls at the hairs at the nape of your neck and pulls you closer. You suck her bottom lip into your mouth before you trail kisses down her cheek and throat, and she cranes her neck and lets out a desperate whine as you suck a mark into her skin. _

_ You lose track of a few minutes but then suddenly you're in your room, still kissing her, and her shirt’s pulled down quite a bit. She pulls a little away and  _ looks _ at you, really looks and  _ sees _ you, and that's when you falter, because there is nothing but softness in her eyes. _

_ “You’re such an incredible woman, Clarke,” Lexa says, so gently, so tenderly. Her walls are down, you know, you can see it, because she's hardly ever this soft, this honest. _

_ “I don't know why you think so,” you say, and she leans back in to kiss you quickly. _

_ “Because you're strong, beautiful, loyal,” she whispers, resting her forehead against yours. _

_ “You want to be with me.” _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “I'm not ready. Not yet.” _

_ “I know,” she says, and then she kisses you again and you close your eyes and lean in. You open them again when you feel a dampness on your cheek, and see that a few tears have rolled down Lexa’s cheeks. She pulls away to catch her breath, and her lip trembles, but then she kisses you again just as intensely and pulls you backwards. She sits down on your bed and you follow her down, but on your hands and knees above her, you stop. _

_ “You're drunk,” you say, without looking at those sad hazy eyes. _

_ “Yes,” she agrees, and then she sniffles a bit. _

_ “Go to sleep, Lexa. You can stay here overnight.” _

_ “Okay.” Her voice is still teary, and you help her scoot up to lay in your bed properly. When she's curled up, still sniffling, still leaking a few tears, you pull your blanket over her and kiss her forehead before slipping back out into the party. _

* * *

 

You allow yourself a few minutes before you get out of bed and go into the living room and to the kitchen. Raven comes out of her own room as you pull poptarts out of the pantry and a soda out of the fridge.

“Hey there sleepyhead,” she says, walking into the kitchen and to the fridge. “Nice nap?”

“Mostly,” you answer, but that's all you say. You're still wary around Raven, because you know she's your friend but she's talking to Anya, keeping her updated on you. And you're just fucking fine, thank you very much, no matter how much Raven doesn't believe you.

Raven must realize you don't want to talk so she wants away again, back to her room, and you sit on the couch, flip on the TV, and numb yourself.


	2. four weeks after (intermission: 0:00)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> four weeks, 3 days, and 13 hours ago you thought you had the world, but you only actually had a girl, and nothing else, and four weeks, 3 days, and 10 hours ago, you left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll adjust formatting when i'm back in the states with my computer; i'm on vacation right now, but i didn't want to wait too long to post the next chapter when i had it done.

four weeks, 3 days, and 13 hours ago you thought you had the world, but you only actually had a girl, and nothing else, and four weeks, 3 days, and 10 hours ago, you left.

    You wake up past noon with panic gripping your chest and nausea rolling your stomach. You cough, dry heave just a little, and flop back down into your sheets, damp with sweat.

    The panic attacks- anxiety attacks- whatever the fuck she said they were didn't start when you left , but they did get worse. They're why you're still in bed, when you used to get up at 5:40 am sharp. They woke you up so often in the night that you hardly got any rest, so you slept in, nearly every day now.

    There's a harsh slash sunshine across the ceiling from a crack in your tightly drawn curtains, and it reminds you of her hair.

    You get up.

    It's just another long day in a series of long days.

    Your phone has 6 unread messages, which you ignore until you're showered and dressed in nice pants and a button-up. You read them while you sit at the kitchen counter in your family's home, just outside of DC’s city limits, sipping coffee.

 **Anya** : Lunch today?  


**Anya** : Guess not.  


**Anya** : Text me back asap  


**Anya** : Look, I know that this has been really hard for you, but it's not like you two were even actually dating. You can't keep screening texts and sleeping past noon. Pick yourself up, Lexa.

 

 **Gus:** I got you some tea to help you sleep.

 

    You rub your eyes, ignore Anya, and send quick thank you to Gus.

    She's right, and that's why you don't want to text her. Clarke and you were never really together. But she meant the world to you, that beautiful golden girl with the sky in her eyes, and you hadn't felt so intensely since Costia and maybe that's why it hurt so much.

* * *

 

    _"You're leaving?" she said, her voice hoarse, and maybe you should have told her weeks ago but this is what you were avoiding, what you were afraid of._

_She's in the middle of your living room, her eyes bouncing between the boxes containing bits of your life and you, standing at the hallway door frame, looking misplaced and feeling sick._

_"I have to return to my family," you say, and it comes out flat and vulnerable._

_"Your family? But what about- you have a life here, too!" Clarke's still too bewildered to be angry, but the shock is fading quick and the storm is breaking soon._

_"I have duties, Clarke." You pause, and then add, a little more meekly, a little more weakly, "I'm sorry. I should have told you before."_

_"You think?" Clarke snarls, and there it is, that anger, the fury you deserve and it's almost tangible, a dark and sinking fist that's pushing against your chest. "You're just leaving me behind and moving back to DC? I can't fucking believe this."_

_"Clarke-"_

_"When did you think would have been a good time to tell me? When you decided? When you went out to get boxes? Maybe when you had to take down my drawings from your wall?"_

_"I'm sorry, Clarke," you try to say, but you're too desperate, so you just close your mouth as she curls and uncurls her fingers in out out of fists._

_"Sorry doesn't cut it. God, I should have known better."_

_"Clarke,” you start, and then you pause, rearrange your thoughts, line up your words, and try again. “I care about you, but I have duties. I have to do what's right for my family.” You feel like you just repeating a stale, old mantra, and Clarke knows it too._

_"Fine. Leave. Fuck you, Lexa." She turns around on her heel and wrenches your door open. She stops with one foot out of the door, and she says, "I can't believe I trusted in you."_

_You want to chase after her, grab her wrist and tell her that you'd stay, you'd stay for her if she'd just have you, but you don't, and she slams the door hard enough that you think the whole building will shatter and instead you stand in your empty apartment and try to make yourself small._

* * *

 

    There's heavy knocking on your door and you know who it is before you pull the door open and Anya comes in, shoving a paper bag into your hands and proceeding to go rooting through your kitchen.

    “Am I going to have to start coming over here regularly just to make sure you're alive?” Anya asks, and she's irritated but you know it's just because she's worried about you.

    “No,” you answer, even though it's not necessary, and you check inside the paper bag as you close the door asks see it's the tea Gus had gotten for you. “I just woke up.”

    “I figured.” she seems to find what she's looking for- beef jerky and beer- and she comes back out of your kitchen to sit on the couch. “Did you at least sleep well?”

    You shrug and sit on the couch next to her, bringing your feet up underneath you. Anya makes a nose of understanding as she sips her beer.

“Were you planning on going into the company today?” Anya asks, eyeing your button up.

    “Maybe. Probably.” You don't really want to, you never wanted to take over the company. You want to be back with Clarke, at your internship at the museum, back where Anya lives because she's only here to help you transition. She should have gone back a week ago, and she hasn't said it but you know that she's staying because she's worried about you, worried that you'll implode without her. And you're sure you would. The duties and expectations of you here are far too much, too suffocating, and you miss the freedom and _liveliness_ of New York.

    “Lexa,” Anya says, pulling you out of your head and you look up at her. “You have duties to your family, but you owe nothing to the company.”

    “You know my family _is_ the company,” you say, and she presses her lips in a tight line but doesn't correct you or object.

* * *

 

    Anya leaves and you do go to the company offices, stand uncomfortably in the elevator as it drags you up to the top floor. You've been coming to this building since you were six years old, trailing along and holding your mother's hand as she brought your father lunch. You were hardly ten when he started having you follow him around the building, introducing you to people whose names you didn't remember and telling you their positions that you didn't understand. He was always proud of you, his little protege, up until you were fifteen and the panic attacks started happening, until you were seventeen and you fell in love with a girl, until you were twenty and you moved away to live with Anya in New York.

    He'd been sick for years and never told you, but always expected you'd come running to pick up the company when he had to step down. You promised him you would when you were twenty two and he finally told you he wasn't as strong as you always thought he was, if only because you thought it may just be the last chance you had to make him proud again.

    When you get back home, after you've talked to Titus, your father's CFO, and went over some business things you didn't want to hear about, you sit on the couch and put on a documentary, and pretend you don't ache with every fiber of your being.


	3. six months after, part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time since Lexa left, you feel different. Maybe you're a little bit drunk... Maybe you're just moving on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally just finished this and i have no beta except google docs autocorrect and spellcheck so if there's mistakes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

For the first time since Lexa left, you feel different.

Maybe you’re a little bit drunk- though, contrary to what Raven thinks, you haven’t been drinking  _ that _ much. You were, in the weeks right after she left, you’ll admit that, but not anymore. You didn’t want your feelings to drown in a bottle for you to puke them up the next day.

Maybe you’re just moving on. That’s unlikely, though, since you’re still haunted by thoughts of Lexa. Even when you’re in another woman’s bed, tracing another woman’s curves, kissing another woman’s skin, you think of her. Your new lover murmurs your name and your mind reminds you of Lexa’s short, shallow gasps, her light and quiet moans.

You feel guilty.

Niylah is good, kind. She knows parts of you, deep and intimate parts that only Raven, only Lexa ever knew. You don't know why she pulled you open, how she pried her way into your skin. But she knows how damaged you are, how you're held together by stubbornness and paper mache, and you think that maybe, she knows what she is to you. Or, what she's not.

Still, you feel guilty.

Because her tattoos remind your of Lexa's, even though it’s been half a year. You still want her back, you want her to be hurt and broken and punished, but you  _ want her back _ .

Niylah doesn't try to stop you when you accidentally wake her up while trying to sneak out of her house at 5 am. She opens one eye, watches you move about and collect your things, and eventually it drifts lazily closed.

When you open the door, fully clothed although rumpled, she speaks up.

“You’re welcome back any time. No strings.”

You bite your lip, then say, “Thank you.” Niylah hums and you close the door behind you, make sure you lock her front door before you begin your trek back to your apartment.

Coming home to an empty house is still unfamiliar- no one’s on the couch, the TV is off, the air is still. You drop your purse onto the floor and drop into a lounge chair before realizing that your house isn’t quite as empty as you thought.

“Why the fuck are you in my house at six am?”

Bellamy shrugs. “I was in town, thought I’d say hi.”

“So you broke in?”

“You weren’t home.” He straightens up from his position leaning against the door to the kitchen and walks towards you. “An all-nighter, I’m guessing?”

You shrug as he sits in the chair next to you. “How have you been?”

“Oh, you know, shitty,” you say, and he laughs.

“Women, am I right?” he says, and you both laugh. “Good to see you have your own place now, though.”

“Yeah, I like it.” You look around your apartment; it’s small, but it has a kitchen and a bathroom and the area for your bed doesn’t have a door but it is tucked away. You have enough room for a crappy TV and all of your art supplies, and with the fairly recent scorch marks on the kitchen wall, it’s starting to feel like home.

There’s a brief pause again, and then Bellamy sighs. “Well, I’m already out of bullshit conversation starters, so I’ll be honest. Raven and Octavia wanted me to talk to you.”

“I already figured.”

“I told them you’ll be fine, but they’re worried.”

“I know.”

"You  _ will  _ be fine, though, right?” Bellamy leans forward and looks at you intensely from under his mop of dark hair.

You can’t lie to him, and you don’t try. You shrug. “Probably. I hope so. Honestly, this sucks dick. I hate feeling so angry all the time.”

“Why are you angry?”

“Because she left me just when I started thinking I was going to be okay,” you say miserably. Bellamy doesn’t say anything, just stares, so you continue. “After Finn… well, you know how I was. Too damaged to really hold onto any relationship, romantic or not. And she got it. Like, yeah, Raven lost Finn too, but their relationship wasn’t like his and I’s.”

“He wasn’t in love with her anymore.”

“Right. And she wasn’t there, she didn’t- anyways, Lexa, she knew what it was like. Maybe there’s something unhealthy about bonding over pain but it was more than that, and maybe that’s why it hurts so much. She saw me raw and open. I didn’t feel like I was forced to tell her everything- not that I needed to, since she already knew, but still. She was the only person who didn’t expect anything from me.”

Bellamy is still quiet, but you’re all out of words. Finally, he leans back into the chair. “And now she’s gone.”

“Now she’s gone. After going and making me feel things all over again.”

“Damn feelings.” Bellamy seems to be thinking, and you wait and watch until he shrugs. “Well, I’m not going to pretend like I have any advice.”

“Yeah, I know, your work here is done. Go tell Octavia that Clarke will be fine.” You smile just a little when you speak, just to make sure Bellamy knows you're joking, and he nods while he stands.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” Bellamy says and he starts walking towards the door. “For her, and…”  _ for Finn, _ but the last part goes unsaid.

“Yeah, I know, Bell,” you say, and he pats you awkwardly on the shoulder before walking out of your door.

* * *

_ You officially meet Lexa Woods at Raven’s house during a get-together. You haven’t moved in yet; it’s only been a month since Finn, and you’re getting better, really, but it takes hardly an hour and a half for you to get sick of sitting in the living room with all of your friends. _

_ Lexa uncomfortable too- her eyes keep shifting to the clock, across faces, to the TV. Her shoulders are squared, hand folded tightly on her lap, everything about her stiff. You've been watching her since you were introduced, kind of because she's hot, but also because you feel something familiar in her, in the way she grit her teeth and swallowed something when you heard Anya tell her in hushed tones about who you were, in relation to Finn. _

_ After you accidentally meet her eyes for a second, miss a joke, and someone asks if you're okay, you make your excuses and abscond from the room.  _

_ Your friends mean well but you are sick and fucking tired of being asked of you're okay. Their pity and concern feel like tar in the air around you, closing in and choking. You hear someone ask if they should check on you, and you go into the bathroom before you head a response. _

_ You need space. _

_ Lexa finds you some time later in the hallway, leaning against the wall and staring blankly at a framed picture hanging across from you. You expect her to ask if you’re okay, how are you feeling, does looking at him hurt, does this picture make you sad, but she doesn’t. Instead, she simply says, “Hello, Clarke.” _

_ A hum of acknowledgement is all you can muster. She folds her hands behind her, leans against the wall next to you, and follows your gaze to the picture. It’s only one of many on the wall, but it’s the only one with you, Finn, and Raven all in it. He’s in the middle, an arm around Raven’s shoulders, the other around your waist, and you’re all standing in your graduation robes. You and Finn are laughing while Raven is making a ridiculous face, and you’re all so God damned happy- _

_ “It sucks,” you say. _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “You know what it feels like, don’t you?” you ask, looking at her. You see her jaw clench, her eye twitch, and she swallows. “I could see it, when they told you that we dated.” _

_ Lexa looks intently at the picture for a while before she responds. “Her name was Costia.” _

_ You don’t ask what happened. You can see all of the pain in Lexa’s eyes, even as she swallows it down. “How long ago?” _

_ “A year.” _

_ “Does it go away?” You hate how vulnerable you sound, but you continue. “Does it stop hurting?” _

_ Once again, she goes silent before inhaling deeply and she tells you “No.” _

_ It’s not the answer you hoped for, but it’s the answer you expected. _

_ “It gets easier, though,” she continues, “to ignore.” _

_ You half expect her to say more, but she doesn’t. Instead you lay your head on her shoulder as a silent thank you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is part two and then the gears to make them meet again will actually get set in motion so we can stop kicking the proverbial dead horse of their (not) breakup and i can stop waving about the shitty literature trope of flashbacks


	4. six months after, part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months after you move back to DC, your father dies in your home, in his bed, sometime during the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait, this one was kind of a bitch to write
> 
> EDIT (6/25/16): removed a line in the first paragraph of the flashback that was from a previous version of the chap, lexa never gave octavia a black eye that's from another stoy lmao sorry

Six months after you move back to DC, your father dies in your home, in his bed, sometime during the night. It’s not like you didn’t see it coming- he was sick, they told you that they didn’t know how long he had- but he was still your father, and it still hurts. Titus hires someone to take care of the arrangements for the funeral while you mourn, silently, in a house that is far too big and far too empty.

Anya is back, again, living in the spare bedroom even after it’s been four weeks of her making sure you don’t shatter. She spends most of the days while you’re at work out roaming the streets with Indra or Nyko, and some nights you go out to meet up with them at a bar in a futile attempt to relax.

“Work went smoothly?” She asks, on one such night, sipping on some of mixture of alcohol and tea that she ordered for the both of you. It’s just her, both Indra and Nyko having other obligations, but you’re okay with their absence. Maybe you’re almost glad, because you really just want to talk to your cousin.

“As well as it could,” you answer, with a shrug. “It's just work.”

“Do you know if you’re going to become CEO?”

“I don't know. The board seems okay with it- the only one opposed to my position would be Nia, but she has yet to actually attend a meeting.”

“Ah, she's always been an ice cold bitch anyways,” Anya laughs. “I doubt she'll actually do anything as long as she gets paid.”

“That's the goal for all of us, isn't it?” You shrug. “I don't care what she thinks. I don't particularly care what any of them think. It's _my_ company.”

Anya grinned. “Now you're thinking like a CEO.” She nudges you with her arm. “I'm proud of you, kiddo.”

You actually smile- such a rare event nowadays- and lean back into her. “Thanks, Anya.” After a short hesitation, you tentatively ask, “Do you think you'd ever come back to the company?”

There's a tiny twitch in Anya’s eye that shows she knew the question was coming. “I don't think so, Lexa. I loved it there, and I'm sure it'd be great under your leadership, but I'm happy in New York. I don't want to move back here.” When she sees the frown grow on your face she adds, “I'm sorry.”

Her words reopen the ache in your heart, but you press on. You have a reason for asking. “What if, hypothetically, I pursued opening a branch in New York?”

That gives Anya pause. “Hypothetically, I’d be interested. And, hypothetically, if this was actually a conversation about something you are considering doing, I’d want to drop the hypotheticals.”

You actually laugh, a sharp little exhale, and nod. “New York is a massive city of commerce. Honestly, I don’t know why we don’t have a branch up there already. I had talked to my father about it, and he supported it, and I’ve double and triple checked the books. It’s a good move.”

“And it’d get you back home.”

“And it’d get me home. But if I opened a new branch, I’d want someone I trust working on it with me. Someone I know can take charge, who knows what she’s doing. Someone like you.” Anya leans back, tapping her nail on her glass and you can tell she’s grinding her teeth as she thinks it over. “Aren’t you still bartending?” you ask. “Wouldn’t working at a company you know, making way more money, be better?”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“You’re the one who taught me how to cut deals.”

She laughs. “Yeah. True. But first, tell me this: are you also trying to crawl back to Clarke?”

You freeze, in the middle of lifting your drink to your mouth. Slowly, you lower again, inhale, exhale. “Don’t go there, Anya.”

Anya snorts, an ugly angry scoff. “I knew it. You’re still hung up on a girl that you haven’t seen or spoken to in _half a year.”_

“It’s really none of your business,” you snap, feeling anger well in you.

“It is when I’m the one who has to clean up your drunken messes and hold your hair back when you’re knelt over the toilet,” she hisses. You suddenly become self-conscious about the drink in your hand. “Are you so thick that you can’t see how much this infatuation is ruining you? You knew her for three months and you’re acting like she’s Costia.”

Your blood runs ice cold and red hot at the same time, pounding in your ears. You want to turn around and scream at Anya, but instead you stare at the dark wood of the bar, flexing your fingers around the glass so you don’t clench them and shatter it, and very calmly say, “Don’t you ever bring her up like that, Anya. Don’t you _dare._ ”

Anya knows she’s stepped over a line because she falls silent. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I’m scared for you.”

“Why? I’m not your problem, Anya.”

She lets out a little huff of a humourless laugh. “That doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you every single second. I don’t want you to be hurting any more.”

“Do you know something you’re not telling me?” you ask suddenly, finally looking at her. When she hesitates, you know you’re right.  “What?” Anya sighs, shakes her head, looks away. “Anya, what do you know?”

For half a second there’s something in her eyes, maybe sadness, maybe hesitation. “Lexa, you're just going to dissect anything I tell you-”

“Anya, just tell me.”

She watches you for a moment, then relents. “She’d been going out, picked up a few guys, never stayed with them for more than a night. Raven told me she met a girl at some shop recently, got in a bar fight with her. She’s been spending nights with her now. Seems like she might be getting better.” _And leaving you behind._

It feels like a betrayal, but you know you have nothing to feel betrayed about. You know you shouldn't be hung up on Clarke. It's good she's not hung up on you. But it aches, and you wish she still hurt like you. You wish she still cared. You wish you didn't feel the raw pain in the out of your stomach at the thought of someone else's hands on her, someone else kissing her skin, their fingers in her hair, where yours should be.

* * *

_It's kind of funny, that when you first met Clarke, syou were bonding over dead exes, and now you're in her house, standing in front of her as she gives you The Look that screams “kiss me.”_ _When you put a hand on the nape of Clarke's neck, she immediately leans in, and kissing her is as incredible, as beautiful as it always is. She's intense, but gentle, and you sink into her, as her hands trace up your arms. You could get lost in her taste, the feeling of her lips and tongue. She drags her nails lightly down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake._

_You pull away, just enough to turn your head a little, and when her lips aren't immediately right there again you chase after them for a split second before you realize she's leaning away. You snap out of it, rip your hands away, and shit, you must have fucked up-_

_“Lexa,” she says, and she must have seen the panic in your eyes, because her tone is reassuring._

_“I'm sorry,” you say dumbly, automatically._

_“No, don't be,” she says quickly. “I just want to make sure that you're okay with this.”_

_“This…?”_

_“Sex. I want to have sex with you.” She pauses to let you realize that yes, that was what was happpening, before she continues, “But I can’t say it’ll be anything more than just sex. I don’t- I’m not ready, for a relationship. Not yet.”_

_You stop to consider this, while she watches you, and then you say, “Okay.”_

_“Okay?”_

_“I’m okay with not doing a relationship. I’m okay with just sex.”_

_Clarke’s eyes dart between yours, searching for any doubt, any uncertainty, but then she lets out a little huff of laughter and smiles, nods, then reaches up to put her hard on the back of your neck and she pulls you down for another kiss._

_You fall into her embrace and her taste- you never stop falling into her._

* * *

“Okay,” is all you say.

“Okay?” Anya looks surprised. “What do-”

“Anya,” you interrupt. “I think- let’s talk about New York, okay?”

For a second, you think she’s going to protest, but Anya only shrugs. “Alright. New York. Tell me more about this branch idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i'm gonna say right off the bat I probably didn't touch on lexa's grief over her father as much as i should've or could've but there's a few reasons for that:  
> 1) he was an unnamed made up character for pure plot device reasons, mostly just to give lexa's reason for leaving and returning  
> 2) it's not the direction i wanted to go w/ this fic, i just didn't want to linger on it, because #3  
> 3) i realized that writing about dead fathers is very hard for me due to personal experiences and i just. didn't want to do that. not a realm of angst i'm keen on.
> 
> also that flashback was mostly to show that both clarke AND lexa knew exactly what they were getting into. lexa wasn't going in thinking she was getting a relationship
> 
> anyways don't be surprised if the wait on next chap is just as long, due to me just not sitting down and writing very often and such


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